


Angels and Kings

by queenofhell_proserpina



Series: Cultverse [4]
Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:18:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofhell_proserpina/pseuds/queenofhell_proserpina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The European tour, the break, the bar. "I always wanted a clubhouse for me and my friends."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels and Kings

1

Ever since his time in the basement (and Pete will never forgive himself for that, never, but he will also never forget how strong and perfect and his Patrick was down there) Patrick has been more aware of things, more involved in what’s going on. Pete worried about that for a while, that Patrick would see him, the real him, would leave, but instead Patrick has just become…focused.

“The Gabe thing is an issue,” he says, hands clasped in front of him, eyes wide and serious behind his glasses. They’re in New Zealand, a hotel room finally instead of their shitty little bus, and Pete had been looking forward to actually getting some sleep. Instead, Patrick wants to talk.

Pete rolls his own eyes, lying back against the bed. “Yeah, I know, Patrick. The Gabe thing is an issue; the Gabe thing has been an issue. I can handle it.”

“He’s stepping it up. This isn’t like whatever other little power plays that have gone on between you before. This is serious.”

It’s always serious. That’s what Patrick doesn’t get yet. It’s always serious, but so far, with Gabe it hasn’t been anything Pete needs to worry about too much. Throw something pretty at him and he’s satisfied, at least until the next time.

Things might have changed, though. Pete’s been…distracted. He motions at Patrick to go on.

“He’s talked to Bill. Bill won’t say about what, if they’re planning anything, but he definitely brought up that there were…concerns.”

“Concerns like what?” Patrick just stares down at the floor, and Pete sits up fast, grasping Patrick’s jaw, and pulls his face back up to look at Pete maybe a little harder than necessary. “Like what?”

Patrick swallows; Pete can see his throat work beneath his skin. “Like Ashlee. Like LA in general, really. Like—like the pills. And the drinking.”

Pete lets Patrick go, and takes his own moment to stare at the floor. Its not anywhere near as bad as anyone imagines it—a drink here and there when he’s at the clubs, always much less than the people he’s with, just enough to convince them that he’s one of them; the pills because he needs them, they make him fucking sane and no one else gets that, not even Patrick, really. It’s nothing like the last time. He has it under control now.

And LA, well, LA is the center; LA is where everything is. He loves Chicago, it’ll always be his heart, but anyone who expects his movement to be just the Chicago scene is thinking small, way smaller than Pete could ever even imagine thinking. Pete thinks national, international, global—he wants his band, his movement, to be the biggest thing on the planet.

That’s why everything—Fall Out Boy, Clandestine, DecayDance, networking, touring, press, all the million other ventures that occupy Pete’s time and attention—that’s why it’s all necessary. He’s maybe been spreading himself a little thin lately, maybe self-medicating a little to get through it, but he can handle it.

He opens his mouth to tell Patrick this, to explain himself, but before he can Patrick says quickly, “And he brought up the tour. That it’s gonna be us and The Academy and…and the Cobra, all on one tour.” Patrick’s voice still shakes a little bit when he talks about the Cobra, the band or the message, and Pete has to bite his tongue. Necessary. It was necessary.

But if Gabe’s stepping it up, if he’s bringing Bill and the others in, then the rules have changed. The gesture, letting him have Patrick, wasn’t enough; all it did was let Gabe know that he has a weakness.

“But there’s no plan,” Pete says, almost to himself. If there’s still no plan, then that gives him time to plan, time to figure out what to do about this. Time to make plans of his own.

“Not yet, I don’t think.” Patrick bites his lip. “But it sounds like there probably will be, soon.”

“And William’s not all in yet.”

“It sounded like he was on the fence. That’s why he warned me in the first place, I think. That, or to throw us off guard, make us jumpy.” Patrick snorts, contemptuous and suspicious, and Pete stares at him. A year ago—fuck, three months ago—the possibility wouldn’t even have occurred to Patrick. He just didn’t think that way. Three months ago, Patrick thought the best of everybody at first, until they eventually proved him wrong.

The basement changed a lot of things. For the better and the worse.

“I’ll take care of it,” Pete says. He touches Patrick’s arm and tells himself that its not for him, its not because he needs the contact—it’s for Patrick.

“No,” Patrick says, and Pete tightens his hand on instinct, squeezing Patrick’s wrist. He hasn’t heard that word from Patrick in a long time. It’s kind of a shock, to be honest.

“What?”

“No.” Patrick looks down at Pete’s hand, and then up into his eyes. “I need to be a part of this. It isn’t just about you two, not anymore. And…you can’t protect me forever. I’m not sixteen anymore, Pete. I need to know what’s going on.” He puts his hand over Pete’s, and squeezes, tightening Pete’s grip on him even more. There will be bruises later, and Pete knows that Patrick is doing it on purpose, reminding Pete that he knows who he belongs to. Manipulating Pete by showing him how pliable he is, to Pete. “Please.”

The reason he doesn’t let Patrick ask him for things often is because Pete can’t say no to him, and the reason he can’t say no to him is because Patrick is so often right. And Patrick is right now—he needs to be in on this, because he’s Pete’s voice, the easiest way to get to him if someone wants to take Pete down. And Pete can’t protect him forever; he needs—no, deserves—to know what’s going on. Especially after the basement.

“Okay,” Pete says. He loosens his grip, rubbing his thumb over the veins on Patrick’s wrist. “Okay, Patrick. You can be a part of it.”

2

LA is Pete’s town. Chicago belongs to none of them, or all of them, maybe. Gabe and Pete both worked there long enough to build up their own strong followings, not to mention the overlap, the hybrid movements that have sprung up from kids who went from Pete’s van to Gabe’s basement to Pete’s van again throughout the years, so conflict there is practically impossible. It’s as neutral as anyplace can get, for them; it’s mutually agreed to be a safe space, where negotiations can take place if negotiations are necessary, if they’re all there at the same time Chicago is home.

New York, well—Gabe can have New York.

Pete wasn’t sure at first about offering a truce. So far, Gabe hasn’t ceded anything—he got rid of Elisa against Pete’s orders, he got Pete for one humiliating night and Patrick for one torturously long weekend, and now he’s trying to turn William against Pete—William, who had been Pete’s first; William, who had previously been as neutral as Chicago. Giving Gabe one more thing would only look like a weakness, after all that.

But the thing is, he really doesn’t want a war. Gabe’s movement is still small, but it’s growing all the time, and he’s in with all of Pete’s people in one way or another. That was Pete’s mistake, and he can admit it; he’d been intrigued by Gabe, had thought his movement was close enough to his own for their messages to merge, but far enough that he couldn’t possibly be a threat—they could easily attract different audiences, appeal to different groups.

True to its name, though, the Cobra had reared up to bite him in the ass. He’d brought Gabe in, and now he has to live with him, since getting rid of him isn’t an option. Gabe made sure of that when he killed Elisa—two mysterious deaths in one band is two too many, in too short a period of time, and besides, Pete’s been getting away from violence lately, anyway. It was necessary in the earliest stages, when he didn’t have other resources, but it’s ultimately messy, and pointless, and wasteful. It draws unnecessary attention to the movement, attention that they can’t afford at this stage.

Which isn’t to say that it isn’t an option. It’s just not the best option.

He’s been planning the bar anyway—he has a power base in Chicago and LA, New York was just next on the list; besides, it’s never a bad idea to have a base of operations that he controls from a distance. If something goes down in Pete’s house, or in a hotel, then that’s on him, but if something goes down in the bar, well, that’s just what happens in bars, isn’t it? He’s just the owner; he’s not responsible for their daily dealings, whatever shady things that happen in backrooms. Not that he expects anything to go wrong—he has it down to a science now, handpicking the ones who will get the message and training his followers to do the same. They haven’t had to take care of anyone in a while, but still. You can never be too careful.

So bringing Gabe in, and William, and Travis, giving them a stake in his newest venture, doesn’t create more work on his part. It makes sense economically, and more importantly, it’ll make them feel like they’re part of things. That’s the real issue here, he thinks—as Fall Out Boy gets bigger, as the movement gets bigger, he has less time to devote to them personally, and that’s why Travis and William have turned to Gabe. He just needs to reassure them that they’re still involved, still important, not just as vehicles for the message, but important to him, to his movement.

And as for Gabe…as for Gabe, bringing him in isn’t a concession, but it will look like one. And that’s the kind of concession that Pete likes.

3

When he brings the idea up to Patrick, he balks at first. “I thought—that wasn’t what I thought you’d want to do,” Patrick says carefully.

“We can’t just cut him off, Patrick,” Pete says, laying a hand on Patrick’s knee. “Or get rid of him.” It isn’t something that he would have brought up to Patrick before—even though Joe is younger, Patrick is still the baby of the band, last in and last converted to the cause. But a lot has changed since the basement, and Patrick is right—Pete doesn’t have to protect him anymore, doesn’t have to hide anything. The thought is freeing, but also terrifying, in a way. Patrick’s always tempered Pete’s excesses just by his very existence, because Pete worried about what he would think if he ever found out. Now, after the basement, after showing him the tapes, after seeing that last inch of resistance break, he knows that Patrick won’t leave, won’t ever leave. Now, Pete can do anything.

“Why not?” Hearing Patrick say things like that, wanting to know why they can’t just get rid of Gabe, wanting to get rid of Gabe, it’s the same—freeing and terrifying, all at the same time.

It’s tempting, to change his mind, to give Patrick this, but he has his reasons. “As William thoughtfully pointed out, we’re going on tour with him soon. He’s too involved with us, and he’s too involved with too many fucking people. I’d rather not start a war with him if I can help it.”

“You won’t need to,” Patrick says. He’s wringing his hands, and Pete can tell that he’s—something. Angry? Disappointed, maybe. “He’s already starting it.”

“No, he’s trying to fuck with me. He knows that he doesn’t have the power to challenge me, not really. The Cobra has its followers, yeah, but we’re bigger than that. Our numbers and our message. We’re bigger than him,” Pete says, utterly sure. “He’s just trying to throw me off balance, see if he can make me crack. And he can’t.”

Patrick just looks down at the floor, biting his lip, and Pete grabs him by the jaw, makes Patrick look at him. He’s had to do this a little too often lately; luckily the sideburns cover the bruises. “Hey. This is the best option, okay? Give him something that looks like a concession, but really isn’t. Make him think he’s getting what he wants, when really he’s getting what I want to give him.”

“Like me,” Patrick says quietly.

“No,” Pete says firmly, loosening his grip. “More like giving Alicia to Mikey.” Mikey had been a matter of contention for a while between him and Gerard, who he usually doesn’t have problems with, and Alicia had been the perfect solution: someone who belongs to both of them, make sure that neither of them wins entirely. Gerard has Mikey for the most part, which Pete has to admit is only fair—Mikey is his brother, after all, his first and best disciple—but Pete still has a foot hold, still owns a certain part of Mikey’s heart and mind. In this case it’ll be Gabe who has a foothold, who owns a stake. The rest will belong to Pete.

Patrick was different. Patrick never stopped being his; Gabe never really got a piece. Eventually, Pete will find a way to convince him of that. Now, though, is not the time.

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It’s a good idea, for now, but it’ll only keep him distracted for a while.”

“A while is all we need,” Pete says. “We’ll be on tour with Gabe and William, yeah. But that also means that they’ll be on tour with us.”

“On our tour,” Patrick says slowly, and Pete can tell that he gets it.

He smiles encouragingly. “That’s right. Our tour, with our people, and plenty of time for us to talk to William, remind him of who made him who he is today. Remind Gabe of his role in the greater scheme of things. And Gabe will be with us in England, too, just us and the Cobra. Plenty of time for us to—talk. Negotiate.”

Patrick lets out a breath, and says, “Okay. Okay, good. But I want—” He hesitates, and Pete leans forwards a bit. Patrick doesn’t ask for things often, so when he does, Pete listens. “I want us to take some time off. Before the Civic tour, to regroup, and figure out how we’re going to play this. I want to be involved. And I just…I want some time.”

Patrick looks at the floor again, like he’s embarrassed, but Pete just smiles and touches his arm. Pete gave Patrick to Gabe, if only for a little while; he can give Patrick this. “Okay, Patrick. Okay. We’ll take some time.”

The thing is, it’s not a bad idea in general. Pete really has been distracted, so fucking busy all the time that he hasn’t really had time to think about what to do about Gabe, just convinced himself that it isn’t really the problem that it is. They’ve all been distracted, really, doing all of the bullshit that they need to do to establish Fall Out Boy, make it bigger and better than anything else, that the message is starting to become secondary to Fall Out Boy itself, the means bigger than the message. Taking some time to reestablish themselves, remind themselves of what they’re doing and why they’re here, will be a good thing. Pete’s surprised that he didn’t think of it himself.

Besides, it will give him some time to spend with Ashlee, to see if he can crack through that shell of conformity her father has built around her. The religious ones are always the hardest to get to, the hardest to convince of the truth of his message, but once they’re in, they’re committed—they already have the faith, so all that’s necessary is to change the focus. Given a little time, Ashlee will be a useful addition to his movement, her album appealing to kids Pete could never reach by himself.

And it will give him more time to spend with Patrick, now that Patrick finally has a place in L.A. Patrick knows his place in the movement already, knows the truth of Pete’s message, but after his time in the basement, after this tour, the energy Pete’s had to focus elsewhere, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to remind him of how important he is.

This is why Pete can’t say no to Patrick—because he’s so often right. This is no exception.

4

The other guys agree to the idea immediately, both the bar and the break. Especially the break.

“I was starting to think that we were doing too much,” Andy says, playing with a broken pair of sticks. “I mean, I realize it’s necessary, but—”

“But you fucking hate doing press, and it’ll be nice to have a break from it,” Pete says, nodding. “Yeah, I know. Trust me, taking a break will be a good idea for all of us, for a lot of reasons.”

“It’ll be good to just be us for a while,” Joe says, eyes shining. In some ways he’s still the kid Pete met when he was sixteen, just wanting to be around him, wanting to be a part of this, part of the message, and Pete is so fucking glad he listened when Joe told him that he had an idea for a band. Pete might have turned Fall Out Boy into what it is, into the vehicle for his movement, but Joe started the whole thing, set the ball in motion. Joe brought him Patrick.

Pete will never let Joe know how grateful he is for that, but he is grateful.

“So why are we delaying the tour? I mean, what do we tell everyone?” Andy asks, leaning forward, chin on his hands.

“Joe’s exhausted,” Pete says. He puts a hand on Joe’s shoulder and rubs soothingly. “Poor baby, this schedule is just too much for him. He needs a break, and we as his supportive band mates are going to give it to him.”

“Yeah. I’m really tired,” Joe says, deadpan, and then grins. “No, I’m kidding, man. I can totally pull it off.”

Pete laughs. “Damn right, you can. That fucking beard you’re working on makes you look like you’re having a nervous breakdown already.”

He’s given it a lot of thought, and Joe is the best option. If this was just a show for the fans, Pete would be the obvious choice, with his history of ‘mental health issues’ (like those therapists they sent him to know shit anyway, he thinks, the only thing they’re good for is prescribing meds), but this is for Gabe, and he doesn’t want to present himself as weak, or let Gabe think that he’s getting to him. The same with Patrick—he doesn’t want to let Gabe think that Patrick put off the tour because he’s scared of him, because he wants to avoid him, because that will make Gabe leap on him like a cat on a mouse—or a snake on a mouse, he thinks wryly. And Andy, well, Andy would never let himself be presented as weak.

Joe, though, he’ll play the role to the hilt and enjoy doing it, take the eyes off of everyone else long enough for them to get their shit together. And if Gabe thinks that Joe’s weak, that maybe he can get Joe away from Pete in the meantime, let him in on his plans, well. That’s just a bonus, isn’t it?

He’ll never let Joe know how grateful he is, but he will remind him that Pete knows how important he is. Now that they don’t have to take care of…problems as often, now that there are so many other people to delegate things to, Joe doesn’t often get the chance to prove his loyalty to Pete, his commitment to the message. Pete doesn’t really need it from Joe—he knows Joe is solid, as committed to Pete and his vision as anyone can be—but he also knows Joe likes to prove it. And it’s never a bad thing to have proof.

5

Pete brings the idea up to Gabe on the UK tour. It had been planned before Pete even really knew that Gabe was a problem—his original idea was to use that time to bridge the relationship between Gabe and Patrick, make sure they were all one big happy family. To Gabe, it’ll still look like that.

He brings William in first, of course. Over the phone, which is never as good as in person, but he’s just laying groundwork for now. He doesn’t mention what Patrick told him, but it’s the subtext of the whole conversation—when William says easily, “Yeah, I’m definitely interested. It’s a bar in New York, Pete, like I’m gonna say no?” he’s really saying that he’s still loyal to Pete; when Pete laughs and says, “All the booze you can drink, man; I had to bring you in,” he’s telling William that he can still give him what he needs.

William signs off with, “Give Gabe my love, okay? And enjoy the tour,” and Pete knows that he’s saying, “Do whatever you need to do.”

6

Patrick had taken to his assignment well. He’s a good actor, always has been, so when Gabe says hello by putting his arm around Patrick and breathing in his ear, something too low for Pete to hear, Patrick just smiles and nudges him playfully with an elbow.

(Later, Patrick will tell Pete that he asked about the tapes again, if Pete had shown Patrick the tapes. Patrick has asked to see them again, a few times, in preparation for their tour with Cobra Starship. At first Pete worried that maybe he liked it, the memory of being down there with Gabe, that maybe Gabe’s attempts at getting Patrick to take the Cobra were more successful than they seemed, but Patrick told him, “I just want to remember what it was like. I want to remember what he is, so I’m prepared. So I can be strong for you again.”

Things like that are why Pete can’t bring himself to regret it, not really.)

Patrick even invites Gabe onto their tour bus later. “I’ve been working on some beats, if you’re interested,” he says, ducking his head shyly, and Pete has to bite back a smile as Gabe grins, cocky as shit. If he knew Patrick at all, he’d see right through this act; as always, it’s Gabe’s own ego, his inability to see anything beyond himself, that fucks him.

He’s impressed by the beats, mellow from the bud Joe so helpfully provided (Andy went into his bunk for that, t-shirt pulled over his face before it was even lit up), and comfortably sprawled on the couch, hand resting on Patrick’s knee (Pete manages not to snarl, just barely—it’s all part of the plan. It’s necessary) when Pete tells him that he wants to talk.

“So talk,” Gabe says. Pete doesn’t know how the fuck he can be so unconcerned, sitting here without his band, alone on Fall Out Boy’s bus, in Pete’s space, but then, he knows that Pete’s not stupid, isn’t going to start anything at the beginning of a tour. Hopefully Gabe’s not stupid either.

Pete nods at Patrick, who brushes Gabe’s hand off without a word and goes into the back of the bus, into the bunks with Andy. Gabe raises an eyebrow, and Pete smirks at him. “Here’s the beginning of our talk: you don’t get Patrick again. He didn’t take the Cobra, which means he’s not yours, not even a little bit. He’s mine.”

“Then your boy’s a fucking tease, because he’s the one who invited me over here,” Gabe says, laughing.

Pete ignores him. “Here’s the middle of our talk: I don’t want a war. I’ve put up with your little power plays so far because I’ve had other shit to do. You were right—I’ve been…distracted. But I’m not anymore. You want to spread your message, that’s fine. Lock up your kids in your little basement, give the Cobra to whoever will take it, but don’t ever again try to take something that’s mine. I’ve let you get away with it because the…alternative,” he says diplomatically, “was more of a risk. But it won’t be, not for too much longer. We’ve been getting bigger, Gabe, and you…” He smiles. “Well, you haven’t been.”

Album sales don’t directly correlate to how large their respective movements are—Pete’s saved people who’ve never even heard of Fall Out Boy before, and not every kid who votes for them on TRL actually gets the message—but it’s close enough to make Gabe feel inferior. Pete knows Gabe feels it every time they’re on the cover of Rolling Stone, every time their video goes to number one; that he’ll feel it when the kids chant Fall Out Boy while Cobra Starship is opening for them.

“But getting rid of you…that’s not what I want. I still believe in your message, Gabe. I still want you to be a part of my movement.” His movement, and Pete can see Gabe register that, flare up resentfully, and then accept it, if not entirely willingly.

“Which brings us to the end of our conversation: I want a truce. A real one this time, where I give something, and you give something, and then we’re cool.”

“And what exactly do you want me to give?”

“Your word,” Pete says. He knows it doesn’t mean shit, not really, not in the long run, but there’s a certain amount of honor among thieves. “You’ll stop with the plots, you’ll stop trying to turn my people—our people,” he concedes, because Travis and William are part of the Cobra now, too, “against me. If you’ll let me, I can help you. The tour, the next album, the chance to spread your message…you can have all of that. Or, it can all go away. You can go away. It’s your choice.”

“And what do I get?” Gabe says. “I mean, the tour, the album…I had all of that already. What do I get that’s new?” He’s so predictable, always searching for the next pretty thing to play with. Luckily, Pete came prepared.

“Well, there’s Joe,” he says, nodding towards him. Joe’s half-dozing on the couch next to Pete, rumpled and buzzed, and he looks up with a perfect look of terrified confusion when Pete speaks.

Joe’s almost as good of an actor as Patrick; Pete just hasn’t bothered to get it on film yet.

Gabe looks critically at Joe for a moment, and then smiles. “What else?”

“Well, there’s this bar I’ve been thinking about opening,” Pete says casually. “Nice dark atmosphere, VIP section just for us…and whoever we want to bring along. A place for us—you, me, Travis, William. The rest of our boys.”

“In L.A.?”

“New York,” Pete says, and yeah, he can see it in Gabe’s eyes. He knows that Pete won’t be there often, he’s too centered in L.A. for now, and he likes that idea—New York for him, LA for Pete, with Chicago in the middle, for both of them.

“Sounds interesting,” Gabe says, nodding coolly. “What else?”

“And of course there’s Patrick,” Pete says, and watches Gabe’s eyes widen. “Patrick’s music. Patrick’s beats. Patrick working on your album, shaping your music, making it…palatable for mass audiences.” Shaping Gabe’s message, working it into something palatable for Pete, without Gabe even noticing.

Pete can see that Gabe’s practically salivating at the possibility—it’s not even Patrick himself that he wants, really; it’s his music, his songs, his ability to turn a message like Pete’s, like Gabe’s, into something radio-friendly. Something to sing along to and tap your feet to, something that can subtly worm its way into your thoughts, like a virus.

That’s not even half of what Patrick is, what he really is, but that’s all Gabe can see. That’s why he could never get inside of Patrick, not really, and that’s why he’ll let Patrick infiltrate his recording process, let him transfuse Gabe’s message with Pete’s own, without ever opening his eyes to what’s really going on. He wants a piece of that magic no matter what, and that’s why Pete knows this is going to work.

Gabe swallows, and then nods. “Okay. Yeah, I accept,” he says, looking at Pete, and then at Joe. “All of it. Starting now.”

Joe shakes a bit as he gets down on his knees, almost pushing it too far, and Pete has to hide a smile as he watches.

7

The rest of the tour, short as it is, goes smoothly after that. Gabe gets Joe whenever he wants him, which is annoyingly often, but Joe claims not to mind. “Mostly I just lie back and play Metallica riffs in my head,” he says when Pete asks him. “Like, it’s good sex, I just have to tune out the Cobra crap, and I can do that. I mean, Gabe’s good at what he does, I can definitely see that, but it’s no Arma Angelus tour,” he says, grinning, so Pete’s pretty sure that he’s okay.

Patrick works maybe a little too hard on beats to show Gabe, which worried Pete at first—maybe he really had taken the Cobra, at least enough to write for Gabe; to want to write for Gabe. But of course he’s wrong; he should know Patrick better than that by now. Patrick is his. “I just want this to be right—enough of the Cobra to satisfy Gabe, and enough of our message to cut through it, to make it okay,” he says, bunching his hat in his hands.

“I can give you some lyrics,” Pete offers, head on Patrick’s shoulder, looking at the laptop on top of his crossed legs. “You can give them to Gabe, say they’re yours. He won’t use them, but he’ll read them. He’ll hear them.”

“And whatever he writes after that will be influenced by your words,” Patrick says, catching Pete’s idea.

“And your music.”

Patrick smiles, and Pete kisses him, hard and deep and as fucking good as he can.

He could never have guessed that Patrick could be so perfect, so his. He should have had more faith in him before, faith that he would understand the intricacies of getting his message out there. The subtle manipulations, the larger manipulations, the actions that Pete isn’t so proud of, but had to be done---all of the necessities of the path that he’s chosen, the path that Patrick is walking with him. His words and Patrick’s music, two halves of a whole.

At the end of the tour, Gabe is understanding when Pete says he wants to delay the Civic tour for a month. “Joe needs time to…recuperate,” Pete tells him, and Gabe grins.

“Yeah, touring can wear you out.”

“Exactly,” Pete says. Joe trembles subtly every time Gabe looks at him, and Pete can’t wait to see Gabe’s reaction when Joe drops the act and stands up straight and tall in front of him, not even a little afraid.

8

They open the bar early for Patrick’s birthday. It’s exactly how Pete hoped it would be—small, dark, intimate; a place for him and his friends, the people who understand what he has to say and work towards furthering his message. He does his best to make the night special for Patrick, because it should be special for him—he’s done more for Pete, for the message, than anyone. His music and Pete’s words, his voice and Pete’s message, that’s how they’ve gotten where they are today, and Pete wants to reward him. To make it up to him.

He keeps the booze flowing but doesn’t let Patrick drink much, at least not too early in the evening. “Keep your head clear,” he whispers into Patrick’s ear. “Order a few drinks, but after that just go for water, soda, whatever. Act like you’re drunker than you are.” Patrick looks at him oddly, but he complies without question.

Pete’s doing the same, only he’s not drinking at all—just soda and juice all night, not even any meds. He wants to be clear-headed for this.

Everyone else is drinking to excess, and doing everything else to excess, as well—William has Gabe’s little drummer, Nate, under a table, doing god knows what to him; the Butcher and Disashi are on either side of Ryland in a booth, while Travis watches, his arm around Alex; everyone else is spread out in groups and clumps around the bar, with Charlie guarding the door. Pete just wishes Ryan and the boys could be here tonight, but they’re up at the cabin; besides, there are laws that even Pete can’t get around publicly, and the legal drinking age is one of them.

Gabe is absorbed with his new girl, Victoria, when Pete approaches him, but he pushes her away willingly enough to slide an arm over Pete’s shoulder. “Pete, man, Pete. Pete. This was a great idea, man. I can’t wait until it opens, it’s going to be fucking awesome,” he slurs into Pete’s neck.

“Yeah, I know,” Pete says, amused.

“And if this works out, you know what we should do next? An all-ages club—live music, new blood coming through, new bands, getting kids in to hear the music. Don’t you think? Don’t you think, Pete?”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Gabe.” It is, actually. Gabe will forget about it by morning, but Pete files it away for future consideration. “You know, you seem kind of sick to me, you wanna come check out the bathroom?”

“I don’t have to piss, man, I’m good,” Gabe says, laughing, his head falling against Pete’s neck.

“I don’t think so, dude, you look like you’re about to pass out.” And he probably is—the good thing about having the bartenders on his payroll is that they’ll put whatever he wants into the drinks.

He manages to get Gabe to the bathroom despite the height difference, with Andy’s help—he really should have enlisted Charlie for this part of it. Travis raises his drink in a toast as he passes by, and Pete nods at him. He wouldn’t ask Travis or William to be involved in this, but they know about it, and they’re keeping the rest of the Cobra distracted for him—William even asked for pictures, the sick little bastard.

Patrick’s waiting for him inside the bathroom with Joe, leaning against the sinks and talking about—Jesus, talking about movies they want to see. He looks surprised when Pete and Andy dump Gabe, barely conscious, at his feet.

“What’s this?” he asks, forehead wrinkling. Joe puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling encouragingly.

“It’s your birthday present,” Pete says, leaning against the wall. “Just remember, we’re going on tour in less than two weeks, so don’t do anything too permanent. Other than that, he’s yours.”

He’s taking a risk here. Patrick’s never been involved in anything too physical; even with conversions, he usually comes in later, when the kid is pliable and accepting instead of screaming and resisting. But he thinks Patrick’s ready, to realize what their kind of power means, to see exactly what they can do and get away with.

That’s his gift to Patrick tonight—showing him that kind of power, and what he can do with it. He just hopes Patrick is ready to accept it.

Patrick just stares for a moment, looking back and forth between Pete standing in front of him and Gabe sprawled on the floor. Then he gets down on his knees next to Gabe, lifts his shirt a bit, looking at the pale skin sprinkled with hair. He scratches his nails viciously down Gabe’s side, leaving a trail of red, and Gabe twitches, just barely conscious, making a small, hurt noise that echoes against the bathroom walls.

Patrick looks up at Pete, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Summary quote from [Vulture's interview with Pete](http://www.vulture.com/2007/04/drinking_with_fall_out_boy.html).


End file.
